


When One Door Closes

by paperwar



Category: Lovely Complex
Genre: Asian Character, Chromatic Character, Chromatic Source, Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-24
Updated: 2010-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-10 18:44:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperwar/pseuds/paperwar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Otani makes the most of an uncomfortable situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When One Door Closes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle X. The prompt used was "baggage."

The lights died. That click as the door banged shut must have been the switch in the hallway. They heard hurried footsteps, and then a receding voice: the front desk clerk announcing to her coworkers her departure for lunch.

Silence, for only a second.

"You idiot!" hissed Koizumi. She lunged to try the door--locked, of course--trampling on Otani's feet in the process.

"Hey! Watch it, giant! There's not enough room in here for you!" Otani snapped back. She wasn't sure if he'd actively tripped her or she'd just happened to fall over his feet. She was betting on the former, but as she lurched forward, only just managing to catch herself by grabbing the corner of a filing cabinet, she decided his gales of laughter were unforgivable either way. As she rebalanced herself, she gave him a slap on the head. There was just enough light streaming in around the door to make sure her aim was good.

"Whose fault is this?" she screeched, while pounding on the door to no avail. "Who couldn't wake up in time this morning?"

"You were the one who wanted to be mature and stay in a hotel," Otani grumbled, letting slide the fact that Koizumi had slept through the alarm clock too. "We could've stayed with Ishihara and her grandmother for free and they could've woken us up. But no, you tried to be _romantic_," he said, filling the word with disdain.

"What are you talking about? Your brain is as small as the rest of you," she bit off. "We couldn't do that! Nobu's grandmother needs her rest. And their apartment is so small."

"Yeah, not big enough for you, anyway. You'd break right through their ceiling!" Otani jeered.

She punched him, but it felt halfhearted, and she sunk down on her suitcase and sighed.

It was her suitcase that undid them. The next available flight wasn't until that night, so they'd decided to make the best of the situation and go out exploring by themselves while Ishihara was in class. This would have the added benefit of distracting Otani from the classes he would now be missing; he'd spent twenty minutes fretting about how he would manage to make up the material and whether any of his classmates were smart enough to make borrowing their notes worthwhile.

The hotel clerk had shown them the small storage room where they could leave their bags, cluttered with cleaning supplies and old paperwork. They'd been halfway down the street when Koizumi complained that the shoes she'd worn for the airport and plane weren't at all comfortable for a day walking around. She'd been digging in her bag for her sneakers when the clerk, in what must have been a habitual action before her break, slammed the door shut without noticing them.

"Well, surely she'll be back soon," Koizumi said brightly. "She can't take that long for lunch."

Otani snorted. "Yes, but she won't come back here and unlock the door right away unless she needs something. Who knows how long we'll be stuck?"

Koizumi sighed again. "Okay, okay, I know, if it wasn't for me and my shoes we'd be out having fun." _She's going to cry, isn't she?_ he thought with irritation. _There she goes into one of those spirals of self-pity_.

He pushed himself away from the filing cabinet he was leaning against and lowered himself down next to her. The suitcase, contents now disheveled inside its unzipped lid, made for a lumpy seat. _Time for distraction_, he thought, not entirely displeased.

"Oh, come on," he said. "Surely you're happy with this situation? Aren't you going to try to get all romantic on me?" He reached forward to tilt her face up. Even in the dimness, he could see her eyes, wide and nervous and yes, shining with tears.

"I can think of a way to pass the time," he said, and put his hand on her knee.

She startled; he could see, in the dim light seeping in from around the door frame, her expression: annoyance mixed with arousal. She was trying to figure out which reaction should win.

Hoping to tip the scales in his favor, he kissed her, wet and sloppy, the way she seemed to like it best. She made a small noise of vexation, but when he pulled his mouth away, she was smiling down at him. "You pervert," she said.

He shrugged. "Oh come on, you can't resist me."

She made a face and took his free hand in hers, giving it a squeeze before bringing it to her lips.

"There is no one," she said, looking down at him very seriously, "who I'd rather be here with now than you." A laugh broke through; she added, "In a closet. In a hotel. With our luggage. For who knows how long."

She pulled him to her, wrapping her arms around his neck, returning his kiss with a sudden fierce hunger.

He would never talk about it, never admit it. But touching her, kissing her, was about a million times better than he'd ever thought it could be. It's not that he was surprised, exactly; it's not that he'd ever thought it would be bad. Despite the constant mockery, his half of the prickly banter that was their standard way of communicating, he thought she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever met. But he'd never imagined that a mere kiss, the stroke of fingers along skin--even skin that was usually exposed to daylight and therefore all kinds of casual touch--could make him feel like the world was expanding, astonishing, new.

He never felt like rushing, when they kissed; it made him want more, want her more, but there was something about kissing her that demanded he take his time.

It never got old.

That didn't mean he didn't take the opportunity to unbutton her blouse and trace a path with his lips from her face to her collarbone. He marveled at the tenderness of the skin there, as he did every time, like he hadn't kissed there a thousand times before. He hoped he'd be able to do it another thousand times. He lowered his head, coaxed one breast out of its fabric cup, and licked very lightly around the nipple.

"Someone's going to come," she breathed. "We can't do this. They might come back..." She trailed off as he reached around her to undo her bra: minimal fumbling by now; he'd learned the knack. It fell into her lap and his hands moved to both of her breasts. She exhaled slowly, and settled back against the wall, shifting to give him easier access.

After a moment he sent one hand up her skirt, tracing patterns on her thigh and her underwear, loose and lazy. Raising his head from her nipple, he looked at her and said, "Someone's going to come, all right." One startled laugh from her at that, though by this time in their relationship such a statement didn't even make her blush.

He hiked up her skirt--she made a perfunctory protest about wrinkles and how he'd better not rip it--and tore down her underwear.

His fingers found her already wet and slick. He slid two inside her, crooked them in a motion that was familiar to them both, and was rewarded with a reflexive bucking of her hips. He edged back off the suitcase, kneeling awkwardly on the floor, to find a better angle.

"Maybe," he said, "you're so beautiful when you come that we should show you off." She gasped and swatted at his head with one hand. He dipped down and dragged his tongue across her clit, rough and slow.

He looked back up at her. "No, now that I think about it, I want to keep you for myself. No one's going to see you like this but me, okay?"

She put a hand on his head as he returned to her cunt, tongue now dancing frustratingly just around where he knew she needed it to be. Her hand stiffened, clenching his hair.

"Atsushi," she warned.

"Just for me," he said, breath hot on her where she was most sensitive. "I never get tired of seeing you do that."

"Then don't make me wait," she growled, pushing his head down. He made a deep, ragged sound and got back to work.

He always knew she was going to come when she started cursing; she didn't use language like that otherwise. And true to form, in a few moments she arched hard against his mouth, her fervent swear words fading, at the end, to whimpers.

Sagging back against the filing cabinet, still panting, she closed her eyes.

"It's my turn now," Otani said. He reached over to his suitcase and began digging in the exterior pocket. "Another good thing about being locked in here," he said, producing a condom.

She laughed, sweet and soft and just a little bit drowsy, rumpled hair falling messy around her face. She wasn't that tired, though, because she rolled over onto her hands and knees, turning back to give him a look of invitation.

It didn't take long to free his cock from his pants and roll the condom on. He was just positioning himself behind her when they heard a click.

She, quicker to process the noise, staggered to her feet, yanking her skirt down and pulling her blouse closed, crossing her arms to hold it in place as the door flew open. The desk clerk gave a little shriek.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Koizumi said, giving Otani a little shove to make sure he kept his back turned. "We came back so I could change shoes and you went out to lunch and..."

The desk clerk was so mortified, Otani thought, that she might not actually go back to the desk, afraid if she left them, they'd somehow get locked in again.

"Lucky for her we got her out of here! Or she'd be even more embarrassed. Probably scarred for life, to catch a glimpse of you!" Koizumi said, smacking Otani as soon as the clerk left. He snarled at her and grumpily eased his pants back over his erection.


End file.
